


Puzzle Pieces

by Dareandwriteit



Series: Behind Closed Doors [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Seriously if you want to see Angus' relationship to any other character this is the place to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10863222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dareandwriteit/pseuds/Dareandwriteit
Summary: A good detective can deduce everything you need to know about a person from the contents of their room. Angus has gathered a lot over the last few months.A series of drabbles about the stuff Angus has collected over his time at the Bureau.





	1. The Brandywine

When Angus first arrived at the moonbase, it was pretty damn terrible. The people were nice, which was something. But he felt so sick it barely registered.

There was a major logistical issue with moon base of the Bureau of Balance. It was one of the things the voidfish hid from the memory of the general public, which is fine if you’re merely looking at it. Standing on something your mind literally can’t comprehend is different. The moment he stepped out into the base, Angus almost fell over. He stumbled into Carey, who had escorted him from Neverwinter.

“S-sorry ma’am.” Angus stuttered, trying to right himself. He realised he was grabbing her arm, and quickly let go, embarrassed.

“Don’t sweat it kid. Everyone has trouble with it before they’re inoculated. I heard that Brad barfed twice before he even got this far.” Carey said with a toothy grin, walking Angus out of the hangar of sphere’s.

Angus nodded, nervous to make a good impression. He was very aware that he didn’t know anyone yet, and that they were going to be his co-workers. He was determined to be a young professional, which was very difficult when he could feel his breakfast coming up to meet him.

They walked through some corridors together, Angus nodding politely at the employee’s walking past them. He pretended not to hear them whispering about how young he was once they were out of view. They approached an elevator, when Carey suddenly slapped her forehead.

“Shoot!” It was obvious this was not the word she originally intended to say. “I forgot to get you officially authorised and all that junk. I need to go do some paperwork with Director. I’ll be two seconds, boy wonder. Just wait here for me.”

Angus hesitated for a second before saying ok. He waited until she vanished into the elevator, shooting him finger guns as way of an apology, before sitting on the floor. He took several deep breaths through his nose and tried to ignore how dizzy he felt. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and tried to convince himself that he was sitting in his grandpa’s study instead of on the moon.

“Hey little man, you alright?” Angus opened his eyes to see a young man sitting opposite him, with a bottle of Brandywine in hand.

“I… uh…” Angus belched a little, and felt his face rush red. He put his head in his hands.

“Better out than in kid. Y’know, when they said we were getting a newbie I thought you’d be a little older.” The man held out a hand to shake. “Name’s Avi. Think of me as the cool canon guy.”  
“Angus McDonald.” Angus replied quietly, shaking the hand.

“The _detective_? From the Rockport Limited?” Avi seemed suspicious, but when Angus nodded he bubbled with excitement. “Dude, you’re fucking awesome. No wonder the Director snapped you up, you kicked the shit out of-” Avi seemed realise something. “Crap, how old are you?”

“Ten.” Angus said, letting go of Avi’s hand.

“I probably shouldn’t swear in front of you, huh?”

“I don’t mind.” Angus smiled a little.

“And I was going to offer you some of this help with the moon sickness but that’d make me like…” Avi gestured as though the word he was looking for was somewhere in the air.

“A vagabond?” Angus offered.

“I was going to say a shithead, but sure.”

Angus burped again, looking at the bottle in Avi’s hand. “Does it help?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Maybe I could just take a sip…” Angus said, reaching for bottle. Avi looked around quickly, before handing it to Angus.

“Just make it quick Angus. The Director’s already breathing down my neck for letting Magnus fly drunk, can’t be seen helping underage drinking.”

Angus took a sip. And he immediately spat it all over Avi. It tasted terrible, and it made his throat burn in a way that only made the nausea worse. He wanted to apologise but every sound was interrupted by choking. Oh god.

Avi patted Angus on the back and laughed. “Oh boy, that’s a new one!”

“S-sorry!” Angus managed to choke out, but Avi laughed it away.

“No big Angus.” Avi took a rag out of his pocket and wiped down his face, removing all traces of the Brandywine. “It’s pretty strong stuff, and I’m guessing it’s your first drink?”

Angus nodded.

“Yeah, it’s not the best choice for a first drink. Tell you what, I’ll rustle up some sweet applecheek cider or tropical brandywine. Nice sweet stuff, you’ll probably like that. Sound good?”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble Sir.” Angus said.

“Nah, it’s a welcome gift. Welcome to the Bureau, _Sir_.” Avi gave Angus a quick pat on the head, and walked back through the corridor.

When Angus got to his room later, there was bottle of tropical brandywine sitting on the bed, with a label on it that just read, “Sir”.

Angus still had the bottle in his room several months later. The label was faded, and the bottle was long since empty. But it looked nice on his desk all the same.


	2. The Opened First Aid Kit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus hasn't replaced part of a kit he was never supposed to need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Hannah, don't you have anything better to do?"
> 
> No. No I don't. Welcome to second update today because I can't write anything without some kind of pain.
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of blood and a broken leg. Hopefully not too graphic.

Apparently a first aid kit was a waste of time. Angus was constantly being told he didn’t have to worry about it, that they had clerics for this stuff. 

There hadn’t been any around when the bridge collapsed. It wasn’t even a mission, really, more of a day trip out for supplies. Magnus had taken Angus along for some reason, to get a book or some ice cream or something. It was kind of hard to remember with the collapse.

A cart had hit a beam and broken it. The bridge crumbled almost instantly. It happened so quickly that Angus didn’t quite register what was happening until Magnus jumped on top of him. Everything fell apart and the light was blocked out as rubble crashed down around them. 

And then it was silent. Angus found himself inside a small pocket of space beneath the rubble, pinpricks of sunlight leaking through between the pieces. Water trickled in beneath them, but showed no signs of flooding. He carefully cast produce flame, and held the flickering light above his head.

Magnus was with him. He was sat looking away from Angus, caked in pale dust. He had his hands gripping at his left leg, and was breathing heavily. At the sudden source of light, he turned to look at Angus. Dark red was streaked down his face, from some cuts hidden by his hairline.

“You alright Angus?” He said this with genuine concern.

“Yes Sir.” Angus was surprised to find that this was true. He had a bruise on his knee from Magnus diving onto him, but was otherwise unharmed. He was almost untouched. “Are you?”

“You know me, Ango. I’ve had worse.” Magnus turned to look at his leg again, and took a sharp inhale. “Hey, Angus? Don’t look, ok.”

“But I-” Angus came a little closer.

“Don’t look.” Magnus sounded grave. He put a hand up, placing it on Angus’ chest to stop him getting any closer. His hand was shaking slightly.

“Sir?”

“I’ll be fine Angus, we just need to get out of here. Let me-” Magnus made a move to get up, but was cut off by a sharp guttural sound drawn from his chest. He dropped back to the ground, wincing and losing balance slightly. A fresh swirl of blood clouded the water at Angus’ feet.

“Magnus!” Angus rushed forward, Magnus too preoccupied with remaining upright to stop him. Angus stopped in his tracks. Magnus’ leg was broken. That much was obvious. There was a lot of blood. And Angus was used to blood, but it was never easy. He took a deep breath in. “Oh goodness.”

“Not sure goodness has much to do with that.” Magnus said gruffly.

Angus rustled through his bag, pulling out his first aid kit. He fumbled with the latches, struggling to open it while maintaining the flame in his left hand. He took out the bandages and the stint, and placed them on a rock above the water’s level.

“I’m going to try and set your leg.” Angus said, without much confidence.

“You done this before?” Magnus said, with just a hint of a smile.

“Well, I have done a lot of training, and I’ve talked to Merle about first aid before and I-”

“So no then?”

“Well I need to set your leg or it’s going to get all bendy and you’ll look like a crab boy!” Angus snapped, not handling the pressure well. Magnus laughed at this, sending ripples through the water.

“I’ll help you. Can’t say I’ll be as good a teacher as Taako. Though I can’t promise I’ll be as bad as him either.”

So Magnus walked him through some steps, only interjecting to help him straighten the splint before beginning the wrap the bandages. Magnus barked, there was no other word for it, as Angus began spin the wrappings around the wound. It hurt. A lot.

“Distract me!” Magnus shouted, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

“So, uh… So, uh… What did you do before the Bureau?” Angus panicked, and settled on the first question that came to mind. He immediately regretted it, knowing Magnus didn’t like to talk about it much. But Magnus started talking so quick it was clear he wasn’t quite thinking.

“I used to be a carpenter. Back in Ravensroost? It was a long time ago, but I’m still pretty good at it. I used to make whole chairs and tables and stuff. Instead of just figurines, I mean.”

“Oh, I really liked that duck you gave me!” Angus said. “You used to make big furniture?”

“Still do, when I’ve got the time. Made a few things around our room. Not as easy to get good wood on the moon.” Magnus smirked at his own innuendo but lost it to another spike of pain.

“What’s your favourite thing to make?” Angus asked, carefully spooling the bandages over Magnus’ wound.

“I used to be really good at chairs. I made this beautiful rocking chair once. Lavender smell, detailed engraving, comfy seat: the fucking king of rocking chairs. This rocking chair made every other rocking chair look like shit.”

“What happened to it?”

“I…” Magnus’ face fell. “I don’t remember.”

There was some silence. Angus frantically tried to keep the conversation alive.

“So did you used to have a business?”

Magnus laughed. “Me? Gods no, can you imagine me in charge of math and shit? I was the Hammer of _The Hammer and Tongs_. I was good at beating the hell out of lumber, not anything that required thinking. They used to say I was fixing to knock the whole place down the way I rushed around. The thinking stuff was all Julia-”

Magnus put a hand to his mouth, as though he’d let something precious escape him. He made eye contact with Angus. There was a vulnerability neither had expected to be there. Magnus blushed hard, but couldn’t seem to summon any words.

Angus wanted to ask about her. He liked answers. And this wasn’t the first time he’d heard the name. The occasional reference that was swept away by conversation, or mumbled beneath his breath when someone said something funny. And once, shouted in the middle of the night, then denied without question.

Julia was a mystery.

She was a mystery Angus had no right to solve.

“Have I tied this tight enough?” Angus asked, leaning back from Magnus’ now bandaged leg.

“Uh huh.” Magnus mumbled.

“You’re a real good teacher Magnus.” Angus said. “You didn’t threaten me, not even once!”

“You’re a good student Angus. Too brainy for me to teach anyway.” Magnus smiled weakly, and tousled Angus’ hair. 

“Let me call Merle, and you’ll be fixed up before you know it.” Angus said, taking his stone of farspeech out of his pocket. He only managed to get out “Magnus’ is hurt” before Merle hung up.

“And until he decides to get here, do you want to tell me what _you_ were up to before the Bureau, Mister Kid Detective? Anything cool?”

And Angus told a few tales, only exaggerating one or two for Magnus’ sake. Magnus seemed to genuinely enjoy them, gasping and applauding in all the right places. He would shout that every new person in the story was the murderer, even when the story wasn’t about a murder. He was amazed that Angus figured out who did it every time.

Magnus didn’t bully Angus quite so much after that.

Angus held onto the first aid kit. He hadn’t gotten a new splint yet. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to use one again.


	3. The Cutlery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus has a new piece of cutlery that doesn't match the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be writing my actual book.
> 
> But Angus owns my soul and my degree is over so FUCK IT. Enjoy.

On Angus’ desk, there are a few pieces of expensive silverware sitting in a chipped mug. The mug used to be Magnus’, Angus knew that. The faded picture of a corgi in rainboots betrayed that much. But sat squarely in the middle of the mug, rising above the height of the other silverware like a flag, was a wooden spoon.

When Taako first offered to teach Angus magic, no-one had been more surprised than Angus. The offer had been made quickly, through a mouthful of baby carrots. But by this point Angus had known Taako long enough not to second guess it. He went to the first lesson in his very best clothes, with his brand new wand freshly out of it’s case.

It was slow progress. Angus was as dedicated a student as Taako was a laid back teacher. Their attitudes to work were far from compatible, with Angus’ questions about arcane principles and use of components always met by, “I dunno. I just kind of wing it my dude.”

Angus didn’t complain. Having Taako was better than having no teacher at all. His short lived lessons with Leon had been… dull. Informative, but dull. Angus knew all kinds of things about the history of the schools of magic and the differences between staffs and wands. But he still couldn’t do any magic.

Taako had him casting mage hand on the first day. And he encouraged Angus, in his own discouraging way. It was refreshing after a few years of being a child prodigy in detection, to have someone keeping him grounded.

But there was something about the lessons that rubbed Angus the wrong way. A question that was in the back of his mind every time they met in the cafeteria for tutelage. But he didn’t want to lose his hard won lessons, so he didn’t mention it.

Taako did.

“Got something on your mind, bubbelah?” Taako asked, shooting a smirk at Angus.

“Oh, uh… No Sir.” Angus mumbled, pretending to be looking at his wand.

“Really? ‘Cos the Eeyore get up says different.” Taako leaned across the table and ran a finger along the back of Angus’ ear. Except it wasn’t Angus’ ear, it was a long grey donkey ear which had sprouted from the side of his head. Angus felt his ears twitch instinctually at the odd feeling of Taako’s touch. Angus then grabbed his hat from the table and slammed it down on his head. His donkey ears laid back flat, and he hoped that they weren’t too visible.

“Gotta keep your eyes on the prize, short stuff. This is sloppy spellcasting right here. I don’t even know how you did this when we're learning how to cast magic missile-”

“Taako, why did you decide to teach me magic?” Angus interrupted, staring down at the table. He kept both hands on his hat, gripped it like it was a shield. Taako took a moment, always a fan of the dramatic pause.

“You wanted to learn, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well… There you go.”

Angus looked up at Taako, visibly frustrated with this answer.

“What do you want from me kid, a fuckin’ novel? You’re a big ol’ nerd Ango, and I figured you’d like learning. What’s so hard about that?” Taako said, with his typical aloof tone.

“But… I’m not very good at it.” Angus said.

“So? You know who was the king of shitty magic until like a year ago?” Taako pointed two thumbs at himself. “This guy. I only stopped transmuting everything I touched once the turd patrol got on the scene. You’re doing fine.”

“And you don’t really like teaching me?” Angus said.

“Don’t I?” Taako asked this with a raised eyebrow.

“You called it a ‘snooze-a-roony’ last week.”

“Yeah.” Taako said whimsically.

“And a ‘nerd fest’ the week before.” Angus said sincerely.

“Look, you show up wearing a sweater vest and argyle socks and you’re lucky I didn’t call it a nerd parade.” Taako said this with conviction. Angus looked back down at his wand, and tried to hide a sniffle. Taako sighed deeply.

“Look. I’m not so big on this touchy feely whatever. But on a scale of ass to Taako, you’re pretty alright. And I…” Taako stumbled on his words, his eyes darting around the room. “Ribbed you a little too hard back at the beginning. Not everyone can deal with the Taako ‘tude and you helped us back with Lucas and stuff so-”

Angus’ donkey ears stood up as he realised something. “Oh, is this about you stealing my Grandpa’s silverware?”

“Where’d you hear this?” Taako asked, with an edge to his voice.

“You keep looking at the set of cutlery on the table.”

“Prove it, narc.”

“And you sold the set to Garfield.”

“That could be any one’s-”

“Garfield tried to sell it back to me the day I got here.”

“I’ll kill that… whatever the fuck he is… God damn snitch...” Taako mumbled beneath his breath. “How much did he charge you?”

“I, uh, couldn’t afford it. He wanted seven pints of blood? And I don’t think my boy body can give up that much without me becoming very dead.” Angus said seriously.

“Seven? Jeezy creezy, is he trying to take a fucking bath? Y’know what, I don’t want to even think about it.” Taako pinched his nose, trying to think. “Look, I’m not one for regrets. It’s not Taako’s style. But if I was, this thing would be one of them. I can’t get back all the cutlery. I sure as hell aren’t giving Garfield my fucking blood for almost feeling bad. But here…”

Taako reached deep into his bag, rustling through a few different items. He placed his salt shaker, a handful of loose mints and a half finished tube of smarties on the table. And then he finally pulled out a wooden spoon and held it up triumphantly.

“Forget magic wands. This thing’s the real deal. It’s not as fancy as your old set, but you’ve got the Taako guarantee that this thing’s only touched _perfect_ food. Used to travel around with me on the caravans. This has been the only thing that’s stuck with me the whole way and Ango, that’s something magic just can’t promise.”

Angus put his wand down on the table and looked closely at the spoon.

“Are you sure, Sir? This seems very-”

“Just take it Ango, before I change my mind.” Taako dropped the spoon, and Angus juggled it in the air for a second before grabbing it. He held it close to his chest. 

“Th-thank you Sir, I love-” Angus started, stumbling on his words.

“Get it together donkey boy, I ain’t interested it having any pets.” Taako said, pushing Angus’ cap down off his head. Angus gave a small smile as his donkey ears popped up again. He was stuck with them for the next few hours, and got no small amount of ribbing about it. Merle tried to get a piggy back off him, complaining about how he missed donkey rides at the beach. Magnus tried to give him horseshoes.

Taako never brought up the spoon again. It was Angus’ favourite piece of cutlery in his set.


	4. The Fountain Pen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus will return it to the Director eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of spoilers for Stolen Century here? Vague enough to not spoil anything specific.
> 
> Also, Lucretia and Angus would be close for so many reasons and I love them both.

Angus had a lot of pens, and they were all over the place. In cups, bundled next to his bed, scattered across his desk in various states of disrepair. Ever since he’d started living at the bureau he’d gotten a little careless with them, never having to worry about replacing them or being without one.

There was one pen which had a place, and it was the fountain pen. It was always in it’s corner at the bottom right of Angus’ desk. It was dark blue, with ornate silver patterns on it. There was a word on it that Angus couldn’t read; the manufacturer’s name, according the Director. She would know. It was her pen.

She had left it there one day, after walking Angus back to his room. They had spent the day doing research together, and were finally deciding to turn in for the night. Angus bid her good night, and reached for his door handle when there was a loud crack.

“Angus? Was that your _wrist_?” She said, her typical monotone tinged with horror.

“Oh, it’s nothing ma’am. It doesn’t hurt or anything.” Angus said. “They do that when I do lots of writing sometimes.”

Angus went through the door, and was about to close it when the Director’s hand pressed against the wood above his head. She was shaking her head as she walked in through, repeatedly humming “uh uh” to interrupt Angus’ protests.

“We are going to sit down and do some exercises, young man.”

“Ma’am?” Angus said, stumbling backwards into his desk chair. The Director sat on his bed, facing him with a seemingly neutral expression.

“I am in favour of not having any members of my Bureau get hurt on the job, and that includes you. Now watch my hands, and follow my movements.” 

She began to stretch her hands, pushing back on her fingers with care. Angus stared for a second, and when she met eyes with him, he hurriedly followed her example. There were quite a lot of exercises, one or two using principles of meditation and magic that Angus hadn’t heard of.

“How do you feel?” She asked, once they finished the exercises.

“Tingly?” Angus offered, clenching his hands.

“That will go.” The Director said. “I wish you had told me this sooner, Angus.”

“I really don’t mind, ma’am, I just want to work like everyone else.” Angus insisted. It usually didn’t bother him so much, but the Director was the one person who never treated him like a child. He desperately hoped she wasn’t going stop letting him work with her. There wasn’t an awful lot else he could do on the base.

“So did I Angus. But I ignored the problem for a very long time, and it took it’s toll. I’d rather you didn’t make the same mistake.” The Director sighed, placing her hands on her lap.

“You do a very good job if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am.” Angus said.

The Director smiled, briefly. “You’re kind to say so, Angus. I never wanted to be a leader, and the Bureau is the product of much hard work. I’m glad to have someone like you in our team.”

“What did you want to be?” Angus blurted out.

She seemed startled. “Excuse me?”

“If you didn’t want to be a leader, what did you want to be?” Angus asked, a little more slowly. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t intruding.

“Oh. Well, it’s been such a long time…” She said, seemingly trying to avoid the subject. “But I suppose… I wanted to be a writer. Writing things that really changed the way we view the world. But it was a naive thing to hope for, looking back. My work allows me to change the world in a very real way now.”

“So you don’t write anymore? That’s very sad to hear, ma’am, I would have liked to read it.”

The Director seemed touched, just for a second. But she regained some composure and changed the subject. “The main way I avoided hand cramps was developing ambidexterity. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, it’s an equal ability with each hand.”

“Of course you do.” She said, ruffling his hair. “Let me show you some of the things I’ve learned over the years. It should be quite useful with your investigations.”

She got up from the bed, and crossed over to Angus’ desk. She took the dark blue fountain pen from her pocket, and a plain black pen off the desk. And she began to write with both hands at once.

“That’s amazing! Is this some kind of wizardly magic?” Angus exclaimed, following her pen strokes closely. 

“Just practice. A crazy mad amount of practice.” She replied, scribbling away. “Remember, if you’re practicing, never use a fountain pen in your left hand. The way your hand drags across the page, it’s going to be smudge city, and you don’t want to go to smudge city.”

“That’s a very pretty pen.” Angus said, admiring the neat calligraphy it produced. There was a jolt on the paper as the Director tensed for some unknown reason, but she recovered almost instantly.

“It’s a present from… an old job. It was my signing bonus.”

“That’s a very bad joke ma’am.” Angus said, critically.

“Our standards for jokes weren’t very high. It wasn’t always a very happy place.” The Director said, with some sadness. But she quickly finished up the pages she was writing and put her pens down. 

“Try these writing exercises tomorrow. Just take a break for today, Angus. Don't risk those wrists. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” Angus nodded. And then the Director left, as abruptly as she entered. Angus could swear she suppressed a sigh as she closed the door behind her.

Angus was waiting to return the fountain pen she forgot to take with her. There was something about it that made him feel uncomfortable.


	5. The Herbal Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus isn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

The whole room smelled of herbal tea. Angus had tried, once or twice, to air it out. But the tiny box of tea up on the bookshelf was so pungent it was a fruitless effort. Guests would comment on it every time. But Angus liked it. There was something cosy about it.

Angus had found it hard to sleep when he got to the moon base. He’d never been good at getting to sleep. His mind would refuse to switch off, going over and over the details of a case, or his day, or anything. He realised early on in his residence on the moon he could get up and walk around where-ever he wanted. 

It didn’t help, but at least he didn’t feel trapped in his room.

He’d been on a stroll, wearing a thick dressing gown and slippers, late one night. He hadn’t had a direction in mind. Eventually he ended up in the central plaza, which was lit by light from the actual moon. And instead of being empty, there was a dwarf in the middle of it, surrounded by flowers. The flowers hadn’t been there morning.

Angus walked over quietly, watching as Merle took seeds out of his pockets and threw them liberally around the square. He was whispering a spell of some kind, making the seeds sprout before they even hit the ground. There was no pattern or order to the garden, and most of the plants seemed completely unsuitable for the patchy dirt in the quad.

Angus cleared his throat. Merle was startled, and threw a fistful of seeds in Angus’ face.

“Geez kid, are you trying to give me a heart attack?! What the hell are you doing?” 

Angus brushed down his face with the sleeve of his dressing gown, talking into it. “Sorry, Sir, I couldn’t sleep, and I was just trying to get some air, and I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“Keep your voice down, Ango. This is a covert operation, you’re going to blow the whole thing!” Merle whispered, throwing another handful of seeds. 

“Oh, okay Sir.” Angus whispered. “Can I ask why you’re doing this?”

“Pan help me if you don’t shut your nosy ass up-” Merle grumbled, throwing another fist full of seeds on the ground.

Angus stood there for a moment. And then he cast Shape Water. A water fountain at the edge of room began to spray with great force, and the water floated over to where the plants were. Angus swayed his arms from side to side, giving each of the plants an even amount of water. The dew sparkled on the flower petals, shimmering like the stars above them.

They planted seeds and watered flowers together like this for several minutes, saying nothing. The quad was soon bristling with flowers, filling almost every inch of the quad. Angus and Merle stood in the one tiny patch left with only grass, looking over their work.

“Hope he likes it.” Merle said, under his breath. Angus looked at him curiously, holding the urge to ask anything at bay. Merle rolled his eyes. “Being a cleric for the god of nature kinda sucks ass when you’re not near any nature. And Pan’s been a bit…” Merle looked at his wooden arm for a second, “unreliable lately. Thought he’d lay off if I got him some plants and shit.”

“I like it, Sir.”

“Well it isn’t _for_ you, snot nose.” Merle snapped, not quite with his usual harshness. “Look, I need you to keep your mouth shut about this. The Director’s gonna have a real bug up her butt about this. Something about employee allergies or something.”

“Oh, I will-” Angus began, but Merle interrupted him.

“So, I’m bribing you. Herbal tea, real under the table stuff. The kind of thing only us followers of Pan get.”

“You don’t have to-” Angus tried to interject again, but Merle talked right over him.

“It’s tea time, fart muncher. Come on.”

Merle dragged Angus through the Bureau. He went directly to Angus’ room and threw the door open. (Angus was surprised that Merle remembered where his room was.) Merle grabbed a mug from Angus’ desk, and poured some hot tea out from a flask he had tucked into a pocket.

“It tastes like shit, but it’ll have you knocked out in five minutes.” Merle said, waving his wooden arm in the direction of Angus’ bed.

“That’s alright, Sir. I was pulling an all nighter, no need to worry about me sleeping.” Angus took the mug from Merle, and held it up to his lips. His glasses fogged over instantly.

“Bullshit. I may not be some fancy pants kid detective, but even I know you don’t pull an all nighter in your jammies.”

Angus sipped his tea, not looking at Merle. Merle was not lying when he said it tasted terrible. He was glad for his fogged up glasses, so Merle couldn’t see him.

“Look. You don’t go walking around this place at 3am unless you’re having trouble setting your noggin at ease. Take it from someone who knows.” Merle’s voice was genuine, something that Angus was completely taken aback by. He took note of the bag’s under Merle’s eyes, the frequency with which he scratched at his wooden arm, the many secret planetside missions.  
Angus wasn’t the only one with lots on his mind.

“So drink your tea and go the fuck to sleep.” Merle said.

Angus drank the rest of his mug of tea, as quickly as he could without burning his tongue. He immediately felt drowsy, and wobbled into bed. Merle laughed about it, but Angus didn’t respond. He was asleep before he could even lie down properly.

When Angus woke up, he had a blanket over him and a box of herbal tea on his bookshelf.

He also had the word “LOSER” written on his forehead in sharpie.

Merle was still Merle, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in one day? Now that's what I call procrastination!
> 
> I have chapters planned for literally EVERY other character in TAZ (that Angus realistically would meet) so if there's a specific character you want to see I'll move them up the list on request.


	6. The Chalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus has an unlikely client.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Davenport Davenport Davenport.  
> (Kind of spoilers for Stolen Century? Vague enough not to spoil anything specific.)

There was nothing inherently incriminating about the chalk, Angus knew that. But it was hidden anyway, tucked in the corner of his sock draw. The chalk was going to start an investigation he knew he couldn’t walk away from.

Davenport was an oddity. This was an understatement. He was a gnome who could only say his own name, which made it hard to spend time with him. Most people avoided him, or humoured him.

Angus sympathised. People had treated him much the same when he first arrived at the Bureau.

Angus worked around Davenport sometimes. It was nice to have company that didn’t feel like a source of pressure. They would share a table, piled high with books of research, and pass the day reading. And that was the surprising thing, because Davenport read a lot.

Angus had tried to get him to read out loud, but the sentence “The Grand Relics come from all over the material plane” became “Davenport Davenport Davenport Davenport Davenport”. But there was comprehension in Davenport’s reading. He kept the cadence and the pauses the written words had. He gave Angus a proud smile when he read the sentence, and quickly devoured the rest of the book, occasionally emitting a quiet “Davenport” in a tone that suggested he meant “interesting”.

This was a mystery that Angus was fascinated by. He often tried to help Davenport speak, trying to spell out words phonetically. Davenport never made any progress, but he did try. It didn’t seem to bother him that he never improved. So Angus stopped trying to force change with him, and worked on finding an easier way of communicating with Davenport.

They ended up relying on a vague sense of body language, able to to converse in nods and shaken heads. Angus learned a surprising amount about Davenport. He liked wine. He enjoyed tinkering with mechanical things. He was _excellent_ with star maps.

It became a strange unspoken comfort. Angus would shoot Davenport a polite salute from across the room, which would make Davenport strangely happy. Davenport would bookmark pages of interest to Angus in the research tomes. Angus would watch Davenport put broken technology back together, taking notes. Davenport would save fresh apple pie slices from the cafeteria for Angus.

This is why Angus found the chalk such a concerning gift. Angus had been working alone late one night, pouring over yet another book about the relics, when Davenport pulled on his arm.

“Yes?” Angus asked sleepily. Davenport didn’t reply, instead forcing Angus’ hand open and putting a small piece of white chalk in his palm.

“Davenport.” Davenport said somberly.

“I-I don’t understand Sir, what do you want?” Angus asked, looking Davenport in the eyes. He looked serious, and almost… scared? It was hard to tell with Davenport.

“Davenport.” Davenport stated again, with more force. He tapped at the picture in the book in front of Angus, a sphere designed to destroy the relics, and said his name again.

“You want me to check the relics? Is there something wrong them?” Angus asked this knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. He had suspected as much for a long time. There was something suspicious about the fact that the relics were so easily gone, despite their intense power. The fact the Director would never explain how that worked. There were so many questions that went unanswered but until now Angus wasn’t prepared to risk his place at the Bureau for them.

He closed his hand over the chalk.

“Davenport.” Angus said, with a decisive nod.


	7. The Single Shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus takes a swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point even I don't know how or why I'm writing this much. Today's theme is: I'm pretty sure this is the first use of this relationship tag.
> 
> The Voidfish and I have one thing in common: we have apparently adopted Angus McDonald.
> 
> And requests for Kravitz have been heard, I'm just trying to figure out the exact logistics of it. Sneak preview: his item is a raven feather handkerchief.

No-one could really explained what happened. Not even the Director, who knew more about the Voidfish than anyone. Everyone just seemed satisfied with being glad that the incident hadn’t been any worse. There seemed to be a general assumption that Angus had done something wrong somehow.

Angus was sure he hadn’t done _anything_. He had been outside the tank. And then he had been inside the tank.

It was disorienting, to say the least. A tentacle had snatched his ankle, and reeled him in like a fish. Angus dropped everything he had in his hands (compositions for the Voidfish, somewhat ironically) and attempted to grab at the edge of the tank. His hands slipped off and he was instantly submerged in the water.

Angus was lucky that he didn’t immediately try to breathe in again. It was a shock, but the idea of tasting the void fishes ichor again was a strong enough deterrent. His first move was to try and pull the tentacle from his ankle, but the sight of the Voidfish so close mesmerised him.

The Voidfish was a difficult sight to get used to. Angus never thought he’d start finding it normal. But as he was suspended upside down he realised that some part of him must have begun to find it mundane, because he was truly _awe struck_ by what he saw. The galaxies within the Voidfish’s body were even more intricate than the thick glass of tank could show. They were speckled with colour, so much colour that Angus could not think of how to name them all, which shone with life. Clouds passed through the body of Voidfish, wisps of grey and pink and blue float inexorably through its mass. It was like watching the dance of the universe.

Angus kicked, trying to right himself. The Voidfish’s grip was not tight, but it didn’t quite let go. It sang the last half of it’s usual seven note song, much softer than it usually did. It gingerly pressed a tentacle to Angus’ forehead, and sent a weak jolt of energy through Angus. He felt his mind buzz with static for a moment, and then it cleared. The Voidfish pressed a tentacle against his head again with slightly more force. A brief image of shifting lights revealed itself to Angus, and then static. The Voidfish tried again, and again, with no result.

Soon the Voidfish let out a sad, flat note. And it moved many of its tendrils around Angus. Angus was sure, just for a second, that he was going to die. He felt himself begin to cry, which was difficult to see underwater. 

But the Voidfish simply placed it’s tendrils around his shoulders. It felt like… a hug? Or what a creature that spent it’s time behind glass thought a hug might be? It wiped at Angus’ face, as though sweeping away tears, and then lifted him out of the tank.

Angus was lowered, carefully and the right side up, to the ground. He landed with careful bump, and the Voidfish retreated into its tank. Angus carefully straightened his glasses, tried to shake some of the water from his arms and looked up into the room.

It felt like most of the Bureau was there. Between Magnus and the Reclaimers they seemed five seconds from smashing the tank to pieces. The Director was standing with stricken expression, speaking with some intensity to Johan. Merle and Taako were standing close to one another, and Merle silently paid up 20 gold to Taako as the result of some bet. 

They were all staring at him.

“Um… Hello sirs?” Angus said, with some anxiety.

He was instantly over run with well wishers. Hugs and handshakes and affectionate punches on the arm were inescapable. No-one got out of the room without a little of the Voidfish ichor on them.

Angus’ left shoe was still at the bottom of the Voidfish’s tank. Johan had offered to take it out, but Angus didn’t have the heart to take him up on it. Johan was far from excited about the prospect of cleaning out the tank. Angus didn’t mind having a solo shoe sitting by his door: it reminded him of that afternoon the Bureau had spent in each other’s company.

Besides, the Voidfish seemed to like it’s spare shoe. Every now and then the Voidfish could be seen cradling the shoe, and singing it’s seven note song.


	8. The Raven Feather Handkerchief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus spies on date night.

Angus had several handkerchiefs. They didn’t get used so often anymore, since everyone had laughed at him using them. He kept his drawer of neatly folded squares under literal lock and key.

The newest, and by far the nicest one, belonged to the mysterious gentleman. He’d spilt a bottle of wine over Angus as way of introduction.

“Oh my. Are you alright there, my man?” The man had an accent nearing cockney, and was intimidating level of handsome. Angus suddenly felt very small.

“No, no, it’s quite fine Sir. It’s my mistake.” Angus stammered, taking off his glasses and trying to polish them. He streaked the glass with red wine, smudging them terribly. He continued polishing intently, refusing to look up from them.

“I’m all fingers and thumbs today; far from your fault. Its… uh… It’s been an unexpected night.” The gentleman took a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his suit, and offered it to Angus.

“You don’t have to do that, Sir. Please just go back to your date, I’m sorry for interrupting-”

“Date?” The gentleman was startled by this suggestion, dropping his handkerchief on the floor.

Time seemed to stop. Angus was suddenly aware of what he’d said, but also what he’d been doing the whole night. It wasn’t like he had a habit of spying on the Reclaimers. But they had all seemed so off after collecting the Temporal Chalice that Angus couldn’t help himself. Taako taking a couples class at the Chug and Squeeze was suspicious. And now he’d been spying on Taako’s date for the best part of an hour.

“Or not date! Your very friendly, not date which I definitely didn’t see.” Angus made hesitant eye contact with the gentleman. His face was handsome, and friendly, if not a little uncomfortable in his current environment. His eyes were a piercing yellow, a shade which seemed to be burning and shifting like fire. Angus felt something sharp pierce through him, an instinctual fear that he didn’t seem to understand. There was something terrifying to this man, just below the surface.

The gentleman laughed. One of his long black dreads flicked up into his face, tickling his nose and making him snort.

He really wasn’t good at being intimidating.

Angus chuckled nervously, and leaned down out of his chair to pick up the handkerchief. 

“Stay put, my man. I’ve got this.”

Then the gentleman laid a hand on Angus’ shoulder as he bent down to retrieve the handkerchief. The man’s touch sent shivers through Angus. His hand was cold. Or at least, that’s what Angus thought it must be. Angus felt the hand, but it gave out a kind of cold that felt numb. Formless. Almost dead.

Angus flinched away from the gentleman, almost upsetting his chair from the movement. The gentleman stood up, handkerchief in hand.

“Here you are- oh.” The man seemed to follow his arm with his eyes, settling on his hand placed on Angus’ shoulder. And after a second, he wrenched his hand away in a panic.

“Oh dear. Oh no. I keep forgetting about the ol’ ‘clammy’ ones.” The gentleman said clammy with a faint smile on his face, but forced himself to regain composure. “I hope I didn’t scare you? Or something?”

Angus squeaked. He’d noticed the handkerchief. White, with a edge sewn to look like raven feathers. Symbols of the Raven Queen, the Goddess of Death.

“Death? Taako?!” Angus managed to squeak, fumbling for his wand. The figure in the suit loomed over him.

“Oh. Dump. P-please, stay calm, b-boyo?” The man fumbled on his words, shifting from cockney to american and back again. He winced at the use of the word “boyo”. For an agent of Death, he was a bit of a mess. He went to place a hand on Angus’ shoulder, thought better of it, then didn’t know what to with his hand and ended up fiddling with a braid. He spent a moment in deep thought.

“I have no interest in hurting Taako. He’s quite capable of that himself.” The gentleman said, looking Angus in the eye. “If I wanted him dead, it would be done already. But I don’t. I really don’t.”

Angus looked from the gentleman to the half empty wine bottle on the table. And then over to Taako, who was waiting for his date to return. And sure, he was more than a little bit tipsy, and in the midst of an intense debate about the bowl he was making with the instructor. But he was happy. There was something about the way his ears pricked up, the tap of his foot on the floor. Angus realised that Taako had been waiting for his date for almost ten minutes, and he hadn’t tried to leave yet. Angus cleared his throat.

“I understand, Sir. You best not keep him waiting too long.” Angus said. He took the raven feather handkerchief from the table, and began polish his glasses. This was clearly not the response the gentleman was expecting.

“O-oh. Good. Apologies for the wine.” The gentleman said with a start, picking up the bottle of wine and hurrying back over to Taako’s table. Angus overheard Taako make some critical remark about the wine being wrong and half empty.

But it was obvious he didn’t mean it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz at last! I may love this boy but his adventures in accents makes writing his dialogue a pain in the arse. (Speaking as someone whose dad is genuinely cockney.)
> 
> This takes place in the middle of the Lunar Interlude IV date, if that's not clear.
> 
> My idea of what Kravitz looks like is pretty much this awesome art: http://arctikah.tumblr.com/post/160594520997/came-the-last-night-of-sadness-and-it-was-clear


	9. The Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus offers apologies and gratitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ArcaneAdagio for the idea. I couldn't rest until I wrote some Sloane/Hurley interacting with Angus. My lovely gay tree and my sweet boy.
> 
> I imagine Angus has a lot to thank them for, especially considering they were the main thing that stopped Taako from taking the sash. (That and Magnus punching Taako in the head...)

Angus took a day trip to Goldcliff, a few weeks after the Gaia Sash was retrieved. It was part of the cleanup, the inevitable double checking that nothing about the relics had escaped the Voidfish’s reach. It was typically uninteresting work, very rarely resulting in anything worth talking about. Avi seemed relieved to have a volunteer, since he was usually stuck with the job.

It had been a simple enough job. Asking around the militia and the races resulted in exactly what Angus had expected: no-one knew anything about a sash. Angus finished his research in a little over an hour. Which freed him up to complete his real task.

It was easy to find the tree. Cherry blossoms were scattered around the streets, with more and more piled up in gutters and on window frames. Angus followed them closely, careful not to move them and ruin his attempts at tracking. He was so engrossed in following the small specks of pink that he didn’t see the pool of water until his foot was underwater.

The tree was breathtaking. The world seemed to glow with vibrant pink from the hundreds of pink petals surrounding it. Angus looked over the branches with wonder, taking note of the many ribbons tied to its branches. Scraps of paper, which on closer inspection appeared to be love letters, were tied to tree in dozens of places. Angus’ eyes went from the branches, down to the roots. He saw the two people at the base of the tree, and quickly took off his cap out of respect.

He slowly walked through the pool of water, glad that he was wearing shorts at the water rose up his shins.

“Hello, ma’am’s. I know you don’t know me, and that this may seem a little strange. I’m talking to a tree, which might be a very strange thing to some people. And I’m just a little boy and I don’t know so much about Goldcliff. But I wanted… I wanted to say thank you.” Angus wrung his cap in his hands as he tried to think of what to say. “I work with the guys you met: Magnus, Merle and Taako? And I know that you gave up a lot to help them. Like, the most you can ever give up. You stopped Taako from taking the relic. And they never got to thank you guys… so…”

Angus reached into his pockets and brought out a few items. A wooden ram and a wooden raven, made after much advice from Magnus. A shimmering ribbon which shifted in hues, transmuted by Taako. A blessing from Pan, protecting trees from the will of man, as sketched by Merle. Angus tied the figures to the tree with the ribbon, and left the blessing tucked between two branches. It wasn’t easy, because he was so much shorter than the tree, but he managed it eventually.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything from me. I wasn’t sure what to…” Angus refused to let his mind go off track. “I saw you race. And, after the relic, I found some of the older races too, and I was real impressed! You guys were a good good team, and your peaceful elimination of the dog car was truly incredible!”

The silence of the scene sent a pang through Angus’ heart. He crouched next to the roots of the tree, finding it rude to stand over them. 

“I’m sorry you won’t get to race anymore. I’m sorry that the relic did this to you. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you. I would’ve liked to. I hope you’re happy, somehow.”

Angus stayed at the tree for about an hour. It was tranquil in a way that Angus’ life very rarely was. He could swear that somewhere very distant, he could hear singing. 

Angus found cherry blossoms in his room for weeks after. In every pocket, tucked into most corners, scattered beneath his pillow. It was odd, because he could swear that he never took any.


	10. The Ballad of Detective McDonald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus remembers being forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for two angst things on the spin. 
> 
> The World's Greatest Detective and the World's Greatest Musician are both going to be forgotten when they die and the parallels in that are fascinating to me.

Angus had a bundle of different sheets of music, bound neatly with violin string. He didn’t know how to play, but he would try and read the music when he was tired. He would hum melodies too complex for his squeaky unbroken voice, and wonder how anyone could create such beautiful art. Every piece was signed with Johan’s flamboyant signature. It was the product of many weeks of work.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Johan had asked Angus one night, as they organised the pieces of information that were going to be erased.

The question had taken Angus by surprise, he had been so engrossed in seeing the Voidfish eat. “Excuse me Sir?”

“That part of the deal. That you’ll be forgotten if you bite it down there.” Johan said morosely, lit by the depressing blue light of the tank. He strummed absentmindedly at his harp, watching as his latest composition faded into literal obscurity.

Johan was, in Taako’s words, a real downer. He always had been. And knowing his job, it wasn’t surprising. Angus really liked Johan’s songs. But they all got fed to the Voidfish eventually. This made no difference to anyone in Bureau of course, having been feed its ichor. But the other 99% of the world couldn’t remember them. They loved his songs, were even moved to tears by them. But they could never remember them.

“It’s just that I asked the guys, and they didn’t take it seriously. I get it, they’re goofballs. But you, you’re the ‘world’s greatest detective’. Doesn’t it bother you that the world won’t remember that?” Johan said.

Angus thought for a moment. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that Sir.”

“Some detective.” Johan muttered. His intonation didn’t change, but Angus could tell he didn’t mean anything by it. He plucked at his harp again.

“I just want to help people. I don’t want to brag, because my grandpa says that’s a bad habit, so I don’t think I mind people forgetting me being the ‘world’s greatest detective’. As long as someone solved the case, it doesn’t matter who it was.” Angus sorted the sheets of paper in his hands as he spoke, trying not to lose any.

“I’m the world’s greatest musician. And my grandpa never said anything about bragging, so I can say that? And it sucks that people are never going to remember my genius. Isn’t the point of doin’ stuff is that you’ll get remembered for it?”

“As long as my clients are happy, and I did a good job, and it doesn’t make anyone real upset, being forgotten isn’t so bad Sir.”

“But it’s not just the clients though. It’s everyone. You don’t have anyone you want to remember you?”

“The Bureau will remember me.” Angus said sincerely.

“But what about the people outside the Bureau? You’ve gotta have someone, man.”

“No.” Angus said this more quickly than he thought he would. Johan finally looked away from the Voidfish and at Angus. He quickly added, “I guess not.”

“What about your family?” Johan said with an unnerving warmness.

“The Bureau are my family, Sir. And they can remember more about me than anyone outside of the Bureau ever did. And that’s…” Angus wasn’t sure what is was. “I’ll remember your music, Johan. Forever and forever, and not just because it’s the world’s best.”

Johan made an odd face. Angus could swear it was an attempt at a smile.

“That’s real sweet, McDonald.”

“Thank you Sir!”

“I can see why the Reclaimers bully you.”

* * *

A few weeks later, Johan left the first composition on the doorstep of Angus’ room. It was a long, and bizarrely happy sounding piece for Johan. Angus could hear it playing from way down the Voidfish chamber. But the sheet music was different from Johan’s playing in two major ways.

1\. The sheet music had lyrics.  
2\. The sheet music was called “The Ballad of Detective McDonald.”

Angus didn’t pretend to have an ear for music. But he knew he liked this song. It talked about the Rockport Limited, and the Bureau, and some cases he couldn’t remember telling anyone about. At the very end, there was a dedication.

“For the World’s Greatest Detective, and not the Voidfish. Signed, the World’s Greatest Musician.”

Angus made a habit of visiting the Voidfish chamber once a week, copying out Johan’s compositions, and adding them to the collection. It was something to remember them by, even if it did end up being just for the Bureau.

Just for the Bureau was more than good enough.


	11. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus makes a complaint about HR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is essentially a sequel to the WONDERUL Rules for Angus by KingPreussen which I highly recommend reading before this. All the rules here are lifted straight from this sweet fic:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10917435
> 
> Brad Bradson is brilliant. I wish I could say more but it would probably just be that I want more of him in my life.

The HR office was easy find. Brad made sure of that. He was constantly telling people to “pop in” if they needed a little chat, or to go over pension plans, or a hug. It was the door that was completely covered with motivational posters and stickers. Angus found himself scouring the door for any tiny gap where he could knock without damaging the display. He settled for a tiny sliver of wood between a “Jeff Angel is the wind beneath my wings” sticker and a poster of a dog. Someone (obviously Magnus) had scribbled over the poster’s motivational message and instead put “we need REAL dogs on the moon”.

“Come on in!” Brad’s cheery voice came from the office, and Angus pushed the door open. He stood in the doorway, taking in the sheer tackiness of Brad’s room. He had bean bag chairs and lava lamps. He had potted plants on almost every surface. Motivational posters were framed and hung with pride on every inch of the walls. Brad was sitting behind a desk miles too small for his orc size, and he was beaming at Angus.

“Oh, it’s the boy detective! Sorry, world’s greatest. Not meant to bring up age. How can I help you, my man?”

“Hello, Sir. I-”

“Please, sit down!” Brad interrupted, waving his arm at the bean bag chairs. Angus hesitated at the door frame. Brad smiled brightly. Angus closed the door, and sat down in the chair. He sunk into it so quickly he was soon just a pair of knobbly knees sticking out of a blob.

“Sir, I know about-”

“Would you like some tea? Always keep some brewed for BOB buddies! That’s what I call the Bureau employee’s, much friendlier I think.” Brad reached across his desk, and poured a cup of tea for himself from a crudely painted tea pot.

“N-no, thank you, Sir. I know-” Angus wriggled in the chair so he was sitting more upright, which was more difficult that he thought it would be.

“Please, call me Brad.” Brad interrupted again, sipping at his tea.

“Brad.” Angus snapped. “I know about the list.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about small fry. Gotta a lot of lists here in HR.” Brad was being… evasive? His glasses fogged up from the heat of his tea.

Angus pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and began to read from it. “The Rules for Angus. Number one: Angus does not know this list exists. Keep it that way.”

“That’s clearly not a very good list, is it?”

“Number two: While he refers to himself as a "boy detective," he is very sensitive about his age and it should not be referenced. You corrected yourself when you called me that, didn’t you?” Angus said, pointedly. Brad, to his credit, seemed to be keeping rather cool. But he was keeping his mug close to his face, hiding his expression.

“That’s company policy. Humans can get a little touchy about time, and we just want everyone to feel safe.”

“Sir, I am not comfortable with being treated like… like a pet! I _am_ a little boy. But all this babysitting is simply unacceptable.”

Brad put down his tea. He was blushing and refusing to meet Angus’ eye. Confrontation was far from something he was comfortable with.

“How did you even get it? I was sure I’d hidden it so well...”

“I’m the world’s greatest detective, _Sir_.”

Brad pulled at the collar of his shirt, and coughed. “Of course. You’re a real inspiration Angus.”

Angus felt a wave of Calm Emotion wash over him. Brad’s bardic qualities were tied into his voice, and he frequently cast spells with his encouraging speeches. Angus hadn’t realised how angry he was until it started to fade away.

“We did it with the best intentions Angus. Why don’t you tell me what bothered you about this, and I’ll be sure to fix it best I can.”

Angus had a lot of things he wanted to say. He didn’t like being reduced to list of instructions like a pet gerbil. He didn’t like the fact that everyone seemed to talk about him behind his back, with his “trotting” and “cute bowties” and the star on his wand sources of insincere compliments. He didn’t like seeing all his flaws and shortcomings written out for everyone to see, and even worse, the fact that they were so ready to pretend those flaws didn’t exist.

Instead he said, “I’m not used to this.”

“To what?”

Angus squirmed. “To people… knowing.”

“Knowing what?”

“Me.”

Angus was glad that Brad was the kind of guy who liked hugs. Brad scooped him up before he had a chance to worry about what he’d said. Brad smelled of envelopes and strawberry shampoo. That was the only thought that Angus let through his mind for a few moments.

“You know who knows you even better than the Bureau?” Brad asked, patting Angus’ hair.

“Who?” Angus’ question was muffled, because he asked it into Brad’s floral shirt.

“You.” Brad said.

They spent the afternoon redrafting the Rules for Angus together. Only a few things changed. 

“Sometimes he starts to cry when talking about his family planetside. Do not hug or constrain him in an attempt to comfort him” became “Angus finds it hard to talk about his family planetside. Please do your best to just listen to him if he gets upset about it.” 

“Angus is small and not particularly strong. Help him lift or move things by offering” had an amendment added which stated “he may practice levitate on heavy objects. Be careful to stay out of the way, as he is still learning.”

The first rule was removed completely. The last rule “Angus has feelings and opinions just like you” took it its place.

Angus kept a copy of the rules pinned up on his wall. Brad had covered the copy in glossy dog, Jeff Angel and smiley face stickers. It was good to know that people knew him so well.


	12. The Plasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus gets tripped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who expected this interaction? (When I say Angus & everyone, I mean it.)
> 
> Lucas and Angus are both missing their moms, and aren't handling it so great. Lucas is excessively awful in this because it happens immediately after his meeting the THB and trying to find out stuff about the Voidfish. He's also a mess because of his secret relic scheming. I don't think he's really this rude.

Angus only met Lucas once. It was more than enough. Lucas had been storming towards the Director’s room, and didn’t notice Angus walking the other way. They’d collided, and sent the stack of papers in Angus’ hands flying. Angus felt tears well up in his eyes as his skinned his hands on the floor.

He turned to look at the young man who’d tripped him. Lucas hadn’t stopped.

“Excuse me! It’s rude to knock people over.” Angus called, crawling on the floor to pick up his papers. A few got blotted with tiny drops of blood.

“Oh.” Lucas sounded unfazed, but he had stopped. “Are you lost, little boy?”

Angus felt his face flush. He took a deep breath through his nose. “No, Sir.”

“How’d you get here?” Lucas asked.

“I got shot from the cannon.” Angus said, concentrating on picking up the papers. There was something about Lucas that was naturally infuriating. But Angus didn’t get mad, or at very least he wouldn’t show it.

Lucas didn’t seem to hear, “Do you need help finding your mom? Where did you last see her?”

“I don’t remember.” Angus said. He felt tears fill his eyes, despite his insistent thoughts that those comments didn’t mean anything.

“How can you not remember?” Lucas asked, snottily.

Something in Angus snapped.

“I don’t have a mom!” Angus yelled. He ran his sleeves over his face roughly, trying to remove all evidence of snot and tears. He hurried to grab the rest of his papers and scramble away. Angus was so embarrassed he wished he could just disappear. He thought about trying to cast blink, but he didn’t want to mess it up and embarrass himself further.

Lucas reached for a piece of paper to help him out. Angus snatched it before Lucas could. He didn’t want to be here another second. Lucas grabbed Angus’ wrist instead. Angus wriggled with all his might.

“Let go! I can yell real loud!” Angus tried to shout, but his voice was hoarse. The grazes on his hands were stinging a lot.

“Calm down kid. I’m trying to help you.” Lucas said, pulling a box of plasters from his pocket.

“I don’t want your help!” Angus said, trying to pull his hand away from Lucas.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I- I lost my mom too, it’s made me a little spaced.” Lucas said, making eye contact with Angus. This only seemed to make Angus angrier, as he finally pulled his hand free.

“That doesn’t make it ok! You can’t just, just do whatever you want because you lost family.” Angus took the box of plasters from Lucas and walked away, fuming.

It made a lot of sense, looking back. Angus kept the box of plasters on his desk. The sight of them would make him wonder how things might have been different if he had let Lucas put them on. Angus should have kept his cool. If Lucas could’ve talked about losing his mom, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a disaster. Maybe Merle wouldn’t have had to lose his arm. Maybe Lucas would still be alive.

Angus kept the plasters as a reminder of a mistake he wouldn’t make again.


	13. The Certificate and The Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus learns some lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit it's the Sweet Flips ladies! Warning for mentions of blood in this part.
> 
> Not sure who to write next, my current list of ideas is:  
> Noelle, Garfield, Leon, Mavis & Mookie.
> 
> Requests, suggestions and prompts all welcome!

Angus did a lot of training with a lot of people. Magic with Taako. First aid with Merle. Woodwork with Magnus. Investigation with the Director. Engineering with Avi. Music with Johan. Stealth with Carey. 

Not everyone taught him regularly. A lot of them were more offhanded advice than structured lessons, but Angus considered them all valuable teachers. It was getting to the point where it was almost impossible to find people who Angus didn’t occasionally get some kind of lesson from.

So Killian wasn’t surprised when Angus approached her, wringing his hat in his hands, asking for some guidance. He looked out of place in the dojo, always dressed so formally.

“Sure, kid. What d’you need? Sparring partner? Crossbow course? Help with flirting?” 

Angus had spluttered at the suggestion, and spat out half a dozen half formed words before telling her that yes, he wanted help training with his crossbow. And, if she didn’t mind, he would like some help with fighting too. He began to empty out his pockets, offering her some gold pieces which she turned down with a smile.

“It’s on me.” She ruffled Angus’ hair. “Besides, I think it’ll be funny to see you try and throw a punch.”

And it was, a little. Angus was built like a twig and was about twice as fragile. The first hit he landed on the punch bag sent shocks up to his elbow. But when he looked up to Killian, eyes full of enthusiasm, she didn’t have the heart to laugh too hard. She corrected his hands- thumb on the outside, unless you want to break it- and encouraged him to hit fast rather than hard.

Killian was the type to push hard during training, and Angus didn’t complain about doing the same. They would exercise for hours, not leaving until they were drenched with sweat and completely exhausted. Angus, who had no clothes really suitable for exercise, always looked like a train wreck. Killian offered to go easier on him, but Angus always rejected it. 

It went on like this for several weeks. It stopped when Angus didn’t show up to the Director’s room for work one morning. It hadn’t been anything really unnerving in itself: Angus was entitled to a day off like anyone else. With nothing else to do that morning, Carey suggested they surprise the kid with some soup or something since he wasn’t feeling great.

When they opened the door to Angus’ room, they saw why.

He sitting on the edge of his bed, still dressed in the clothes he’d trained in the day before. He was rocking slightly, not from nervous energy but rather as though he had fallen asleep sitting up. There was something in his hands, and he was trying to unfurl it but couldn’t get his fingers to hold it. At the sound of the door opening he jolted to attention, and threw himself towards the wall next to his bed. His arms covered a patch of the wall as he started to babble excuses to Killian and Carey.

The two shared a look. Carey placed the tub of soup down on Angus’ desk.

“What happened to your hand, short stuff?” Killian asked, taking a slow seat next to him on the bed.

Angus blubbered something, and endeavoured to cover up more of the wall. Killian thought against trying to take a closer look at his hand right away.

“Look, do you know how much crap I’ve broken on the base?” Carey asked, leaning against the desk and looking at Angus.

“No.” Angus whimpered.

“It’s a lot.” Carey said.

“A _lot_.” Killian concurred.

“And you know what the first question Killian, or the Director, or anyone on the base asks me is?”

Angus shook his head.

“Are you ok? And no offense Ango, but you’re a world from okay right now. So we’re going to sort that first, and then we can worry about the rest later. That cool?” Carey said this as she shot a look at Killian. Taking her cue, Killian held out a hand, offering to take Angus’. After a few seconds, Angus put his right hand in hers.

There was a lot of blood. It was misleading, because the cuts were actually rather small. There were a lot of them, scattered across Angus’ knuckles in a way that resembled a spider's web. Killian didn’t look away from his hand, but judging from the tiny splinters of wood embedded in it she could guess what happened. 

No-one said anything while Killian cleaned the cut. They took some disinfectant from Angus’ first aid kit, and cleaned the wound. The only sound was the occasional sniff and sharp inhale of pain from Angus. She took the bandages Angus had been trying to unwrap, and handed them to Carey to cut a good length of fabric from. In a practiced routine, the fabric was quickly wrapped tight around Angus’ hand.

“Good as new.” Killian said, with a note of finality. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Angus said, in a tiny voice, not meeting her eye.

“D’you mind if I ask what the wall did to upset you? Have I got to dish up some ol’ Fangbattle justice on the fixings?” Carey said, with a smile. She kept her eye on the wooden wall next to Angus bed, now featuring a giant dent in the middle. The cracks extended out like the petals of a flower, with drops of blood dying the white lines dark brown in places.

“No, ma’am. I… I had a nightmare, is all.” Angus said.

“Anything in a particular?” Killian asked.

Angus didn’t say anything.

“Has it got anything to do with the reason you wanted to learn about fighting with me?” Killian ventured.

Angus gave a small nod. “It-it’s not always the same. And I never used to let it bother me, you have to believe me, but, but-”

“What’s the dream about, Angus?” Carey asked, gently interrupting his descent into panic. Angus took a deep breath.

“People get hurt. Sometimes its me, or it’s you guys, or Reclaimers, or the Director. Sometimes it’s people I don’t even know. And I can never… I can never stop it. If I’m just a little faster, or stronger, or smarter, then maybe it will be ok. I don’t want to let anyone down, and I’m so very young, I know I can do better. I can learn more, and be smart and brave and strong like all of you!”

“So that’s why all the lessons, huh?” Carey said, deep in thought.

Angus nodded. “It keeps my boy brain busy with something else.”

“Angus, you’ve got to be honest with me right now. I won’t be mad or anything. Were my training sessions too hard for you?” Killian asked.

“A little. The crossbow recoil gave me some bruises? And I was very difficult to get up today because my tiny boy body felt like it was falling apart.” Angus said this with some difficulty. He was a little scared of upsetting people, and it was never more clear than in this moment.

“That sucks Angus.” Carey said. “When was the last time you took a break?”

“But I can’t miss my lessons, I need to-”

“Fine.” Killian said, somewhat cold. “Stay here, change into some clean clothes. We’re getting some stuff together for your lesson today.”

And then she took Carey by the hand and lead her out of the room. When they came back an hour later Angus was cleaned up, but looked even more nervous than before. They placed two large bags in front of Angus.

“What’s my lesson today?” Angus asked, a little nervously.

“A long overdue one.” Carey said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a large glass jar, full to the brim with hard candies. “Today is the Sweet Flips Intro to Having Fun.”

“I know how to have fun-” Angus began but Killian put up one finger in the air to silence him.

“You may be a great detective and everything Angus, but you are terrible at relaxing. We’re going to give you a master class.”

Carey was busy pulling out stuff from the bags, and placing them anywhere she could find space. Puzzles, books, sweets, games, makeup, music boxes, paints, more _things_ than Angus thought possible. All for him.

“Now the first thing is, you’ve got to go with your gut. Be selfish. What do _you_ want to do?” Carey asked, excitedly.

“Where did you-”

“Not relevant to the lesson! What do you want to do first?” Killian asked.

They spent the day all over the moon base, trying out the dozens of different activities the class consisted of. Angus saw almost everyone from the Bureau at some point. The Director approved of his day off emphatically, lending him a book of riddles she thought would be good “extra credit”. Taako baked some cookies to help with the fun, making revolting cinnamon raisin monstrosities that were good for pranking people. (They looked exactly like chocolate chip cookies, and were seen as one of the most evil things Taako had ever done.) Merle cheated at a few card games with Angus, but had such obvious tells that it balanced him out. They shared some hard candies with Magnus, who seemed quite torn between loving the taste of them and hating them for some reason.

No-one mentioned his hurt hand, quite deliberately.

Angus graduated from the Sweet Flips Intro to Fun with flying colours. They put his certificate, hand painted by Killian and Carey, over the crack in the wall. It wasn’t framed, just in case Angus felt the need to impulsively punch the wall in his sleep again. It didn’t come up again. The nightmares did, once or twice, but he had a new routine.

He took a hard candy from the jar beneath his bed, and sucked on it until it disappeared. The fear had always disappeared before the sweet did.


	14. The Moonbeam Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus gets an unexpected birthday present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter to attribute to the wonderful KingPreussen! 
> 
> Klarg and Angus must have met at the end of the Boston Stunt Spectacular. I refuse to believe that opportunity got missed. The world cannot be that cruel.

Angus’ eleventh birthday had been odd. That was probably the best word for it. He’d enjoyed it for the most part. He liked seeing his friends in the ring, and even though they weren’t very good, it was entertaining to see them fight. He’d shouted louder than anyone when Moonbeam had grabbed the invisible Taako. Angus had told a lot of people it was his birthday, and gotten a free pretzel and Jeff Angel shirt from it. Even when Angus had almost died, it was a better birthday than the previous one. 

Once the all powerful enemy had been defeated, the arena had been mostly empty. Angus was still glowing from Taako’s attempts to compliment him. One or two of the other wrestlers had given Angus a pat on the back for his help in the matter. Deathman had left a bit of a bruise on Angus from where he’d enthusiastically clapped him on the shoulder. Jeff Angel had signed the tattered remains on Angus’ shirt for him, and told him to keep his chin up.

Angus was deliriously happy.

He was so happy he almost didn’t notice the cape until it was wrapped around him. The cape was enormous, and made from a thick black material with silver trim. Obscured by the folds, Angus could just about see a picture of a crescent moon and the name “Moonbeam”.

“There you are. I feared you might be chilly since Magnus tore your shirt.” The bugbear looming over Angus was terrifying, and it took a few seconds for Angus to think through the instinctual panic. The bugbear was the wrestler Moonbeam, or better known as Klarg. “Who’s this dapper young man, Taako?”

Taako didn’t look away from the ring. Mangus and Jess were wrestling like crazy, trying to win the championship. It was quite the match, with more than its fair share of gymnastics.

“Klarg, Angus. Angus, Klarg. You’re both nerds, you’ll get along just fine.” Taako said distractedly, waving his hand vaguely in their direction.

Klarg beamed at Angus, and got down on his knees in order to be able to shake Angus’ hand.

“Klarg.” Klarg said, 

“Angus McDonald.” Angus said, shaking firmly.

“Charmed.” Klarg said.

Klarg was. There was a vague glow over his eyes that betrayed the charm spell Taako had over him. It was a broken spell, that had its hold over Klarg months after it was cast. Sometimes. The short, sharp buzz sound that Klarg made was a sign it malfunctioned.

Angus felt his stomach turn to water as Klarg pulled Angus up in the air by his hand. Klarg roared, terrifyingly, in Angus’ face. The force of the sound was so much Angus could swear it pushed against him.

“Hey bubbelah, knock it off. It’s the kid’s birthday.” Taako said, his interest almost fully taken up by the image of Magnus being lifted into the air by a dwarven woman.

There was another sharp buzz. Angus was lifted away from Klarg’s face, and onto his shoulders.

“Your birthday? Why didn’t you say! I quite insist you keep the cape, Master McDonald. Let me see if I can get you a good view of the title fight.” 

And so Angus spent the title match on Klarg’s shoulders, always expecting to be thrown aside whenever the spell wore off. It’s a good thing the match between Jess and Magnus was so entertaining, because Klarg seemed to forget that Angus was up there as they watched the fight.

Angus used the cape as a blanket up on the base. It smelled of tea, lavender and far beneath those, blood. 

It seemed appropriate to have a Moonbeam Blanket on the moon.


	15. The Detectives Magnifying Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus makes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Garfield and friends! Beware that this gets a little spooky/intense, but that's to be expected from everyone's favourite deals warlock.
> 
> Garfield's deliberately vaguely described. Even giving him fingers seemed like too solid an interpretation to me here.

“Ready to make a deal?!”

Angus’ answer was always no. Even with the silverware that had meant so much to his grandpa. Angus had seen some the deals people had made with Garfield. And he was smart enough to know he wasn’t going to get a fair price out of Fantasy Costco’s best employee.

But he really was sorely tempted by the magnifying glass. It was a lens of straight creeping, like the one Magnus had that Angus had admired many times. But this lens was different: the handle was made to intertwining strands: one wooden and one mithril. Runes were etched into both: symbols in thieves cant and enchantments of truth and silence. 

It almost literally had Angus’ name on it. It was called the Detective’s Magnifying Glass after all. Everytime he came in the Fantasy Costco he found himself drawn to it, his breath fogging the glass case. There was no price on the case, which made it safe to assume it was too expensive for him. But he looked anyway. It was nice to imagine he could have it.

Angus felt his heart drop when he found the case empty. He rushed over, fingers pressed up against the glass which now hid nothing. There was a card sitting in the case now. There was extremely tiny writing on it. Angus leaned in closer, trying to read the script.

“Ready… to… make-” Angus read slowly, straining to see even with his strong lenses. A pair of glowing yellow eyes suddenly reflected in the glass.

“A deal?!” Garfield yelled, only an inch from Angus’ ear. It took all of Angus’ self control not to fall on the case and break it. He still stumbled violently forward, knocking his glasses off.

Garfield spun the magnifying glass between his fingers and laughed heartily. “First rule of the mercantile arts; the element of surprise!”

Angus was too occupied with putting his glasses back on to point out how that made no sense. His eyes caught on the sight of the magnifying glass, glinting in the crappy fluorescent lights. The lens of the magnifying glass changed hues in a way he hadn’t been able to see in the case. Without thinking, his hands went out to take it. Garfield moved it away.

“Uh, uh, uh! That’s a bad business practice, little beefsteak. What will you trade for it?” Garfield flashed a terrifying smile. 

Angus crossed his arms, frowning. The beef steak nickname was one Angus hated (a short lived creation of Merle’s, once he realised angus was also a type of beef) and Garfield knew it. An intimidation tactic. Those only got pulled out when the deals were serious. Garfield really wanted Angus to make a deal.

“I don’t have any money.” Angus said, cautiously.

“What I want isn’t money, beef steak.” Garfield said. “What I want…”

Garfield ran a finger through a curl of Angus’ hair. His finger was somehow hot and cold at the same time. Angus instinctively pushed him away with an uncomfortable groan.

“One lock of hair. And the Detective’s Magnifying Glass is yours.”

Angus was hesitant. “Just one?”

“That’s all I need for my purposes.”

“Purposes?” Angus sounded a little disgusted. “What purposes?”

“You want the thing or not? ‘Cos I’ve had some interested buyers willing to give me far, far more…” Garfield picked at his nails, nonchalantly.

Angus thought about it. He reached for the Detective’s Glass, and held it in his hand for a second. He was about to form his reply when his stone of far speech began to chime. The Director needed him.

He forgot all the about the deal. He left the item with Garfield and bid him goodbye. The moment was forgotten in a blur of frantic research and note taking. Angus went to bed, thinking only for a moment how he wished he taken the deal before falling asleep for the night.

When Angus woke up the next morning, it was in a flurry of sneezes. Feathers were all over the place. They’d fallen out from a long straight tear in his pillow, less than an inch from where his head had been that night. He was going to chalk it up to some forgotten accident until he saw the present on the desk.

It was simple red box with a white ribbon. Angus untied it slowly. Nestled among white tissue paper, the Detective’s Glass was shining out to him. Angus lifted it up, and realised in the reflection of the glass that his hair seemed off. Something more than messy, more like it was… missing something. He realised he was missing a lock of hair, on the side that the cut had been in his pillow.

There was a note in the bottom of the box.

“Thanks for shopping at Fantasy Costco.”


	16. The Apple Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus gets lost, and finds something he wasn't looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear sweet Noelle's turn.
> 
> I think they have mentioned her dad's name at some point but I couldn't find it, so I'm calling him Sam. If anyone does know it, feel free to tell me so I can fix it.
> 
> Noelle's story is so sad and I don't see her ever being truly ok with crashing back into the lives of people who think she's dead.

“Excuse me, Sir, is this the Trotson Orchard?” Angus asked, peering over his oversized map. The map was near useless in pouring rain, reduced almost to mush with water. The man in the window, an older halfling dressed in worn down farmers gear, looked at him with surprise. He pulled open the window, and Angus repeated his question.

“‘Fraid not.” The man said.

“Oh.” Angus said, staring closely at his map again. “Would you mind telling me where I am?”

“The Redcheek Brewery. Though I think you’re a little young to enjoy our wares, young man.”

Angus screwed the map up. “I’m afraid I’m a little lost. I was looking for the road, and then the wind picked up and my lantern went out, and then the rain washed away my footprints, and- and-” 

The door to ramshackle house swung open with an appropriate creak. The man was holding a candle, shielding it from the wind as best he could.

“Come in, ‘fore you catch yer death.”

Angus tore the map slightly in his hands. “My grandpa says I shouldn’t go with strangers.”

The man seemed to think about this for a moment. Then he set his candle to one side, and walked out into the rain. He held a hand out.

“Strangers ain’t strangers once you get to know ‘em. Name’s Sam Redcheek. Yours?”

Angus took the man’s hand and shook it. “Angus McDonald.”

Sam Redcheek was a kind man, and the first person Angus had met in a long time that was very good with children in the way you are supposed to be. He hung up Angus’ soaked socks and jumper by the fire to dry. He made him some toast, burnt in the way that all dads burn it, dark charcoal scraped off with a butter knife. He gave Angus a sip of cider, just because it had been such a hard day and it was better he tried it with a real expert on cider. He sat Angus a little further from the fire than he had wanted to sit, because Sam didn’t want him to burn.

“What’ca out here for anyway, Angus?” Sam said, settling down opposite the fire.

“I’m doing a job for a friend. She wanted me to get some special apples for her.” Angus said between bites of toast.

“Your friend’s got good taste. We always use Trotson Orchard for our special cider. Sounds like she’s playing a trick on you though, it’s hardly apple picking weather.”

“Noelle wouldn’t do that, she’s not a big goof like my other friends.” Angus said.

Sam jumped up with a start, knocking his chair to the ground. The shadows that the fire sent out moved in strange and unnerving ways, and Angus was suddenly aware of how much bigger this man was than him.

“What… Who did you say?” Sam’s voice was desperate.

“Noelle.” Angus repeated, and something clicked in his head. “Noelle Redcheek.”

Sam’s face contorted. There was a moment where Angus was sure he was going to jump forward and attack him. But he didn’t. He stumbled backwards a step.

“Why did you come here, just to torment me?”

“I didn’t, Sir, please, you must believe me-”

“My daughter is dead!” Sam snapped, some tears rolling down his face. The only sound was the crackling of burning logs.

“Yes.” Angus said. “And she works with me.”

And Angus told Sam as much as he could. There were several times when it dissolved into static, and Sam would ask him to restart the gobbledegook. It was slow and often painful process. Angus wished he knew more than the fragments Noelle had spoken about. The fact she had died in Phandolin, thanks to the terrible power of one the relics, only to be brought back thanks to another. She’d said she had a family of cider brewers and how much she wanted to set things right before she finally passed to the astral plane.

But she never did.

“Why… Why hasn’t she come to seen me?” Sam asked, taking his seat once again. He looked exhausted, worn thin by the sheer effort of accepting she might not be gone.

“Well, uh, she doesn’t like upsetting people. And she’s in robot body now, which is real cool, but she doesn’t want to scare anyone with it.”

“A robit?” Sam said, with deep concentration. “That mean she can’t get hurt right?”

“Yes.” Angus lied. It was the kind of lie that Sam needed, and it was close enough to true that he didn’t mind telling it.

“Boy, if it means she can’t get hurt the way she did before, I don’t care if she’s a puppy dog.” Sam was smiling now, tears glistening in the fire’s light. “My sweet Noelle! How’s she doing workin’ with you?”

“She’s a real inspiration, Sir.” Angus wasn’t lying now.

“Ah, that’s my girl. A real firecracker. Look,” Sam got up and picked up a picture frame that was sitting on the table to show to Angus. It was a large extended family of halflings, all shaming the same nose and thick dark hair, smiling demurely at whoever was making the picture. Except for one little girl, who must have been Angus’ age. She was sticking her tongue out, and had her fingers in her ears. “She must have been eleven when we had this done. Could never get her to take a thing seriously back then.”

“She looked like you, Sir.” Angus said, quietly.

“Don’t let that fool you. We butted heads on ev’ry thing. And she was right, y’know, most the time. Big on trying something new, something diff’rent. The moment she was born, we said ‘this girl’s a Noelle.’ She just had that spirit of winter in her: bright and pure and refreshing. They say winter’s bad for apples, but there something about waiting for ‘em. It makes ‘em sweeter.” Sam said this with a heavy voice, talking as though it was something he’d thought a thousand times. A thing he’d rehearsed, wishing he could have said it earlier and to the right person.

Angus pulled some paper and a pen from his bag.

“Write her a letter. I’ll get it to her, right away. Swear on my little boy heart.”

Sam took the paper and pen, but looked uncomfortable. “See, I never really was one for books…”

Angus took them back, and set up at the table without a word. He readied his pen over the page, and looked at Sam expectantly. Then he dictated the letter to Angus as best he could.

It was almost twenty pages in the end. And even then there was so much more to say, so much more to fit into what was just paper and ink. They settled on the last line as an invitation to the rest.

“Come and speak to me soon. I have missed you so dearly, and cannot wait to see you again.  
Love,  
Your Papa, Sam Redcheek”

Angus posted the letter under Noelle’s door late that night. It was not the kind of message you should receive in front of people. He had intruded enough.

Noelle went down planetside the next day. She left as soon as she could commandeer a sphere to shoot down there. Angus was happy to see her room empty that day. When ever someone asked if he knew where she had gone, he merely shrugged and said she had something she needed to catch up on.

Noelle came back a week later. Her sphere was nearly overloaded with the sheer weight of what she brought back: crates of cider, stacks of letters, sacks of apples. But the most significant thing was brought straight to Angus.

Noelle went to his room, and the second he answered the door she caught him up in a huge hug which lasted for minutes. She could do nothing but thank him, and he could do nothing but insist it was no big deal. She gave him a plant pot, and a single apple. The pot was old, and heavily enchanted. There was a Redcheek crest engraved on it in a repeating pattern.

“It’s an old family heirloom. You can grow a whole tree in that tiny pot, with the juiciest apples you’ve ever eaten. My papa said he wants you to have it.”

“I couldn’t-”

“Angus, consider yourself part of the Redcheek family. What you did really helped us all, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Plus you get to drink for free most places, which is a total party maker.”

Angus ate the apple Noelle had given him as she regaled him with all the stories that had gone down in her family that she had missed. She had missed a wedding, which was apparently for the best because Hathaway’s new husband Scales was a bit of a goofball. She had missed a feud with a rival cider company, the Applecheek’s, which she would have been a very helpful fighter in. She had missed their new apple sorbet recipe, and countless tiny dramas, and talking to everyone. She had never been happier than she was now she would no longer miss anything.

Angus planted the seeds from the apple Noelle had given him. The tree took root and grew quickly, already about Angus’ height in the corner of his tiny room. Any time Noelle or Angus had a rough day, they’d pick some apples and make a pie together.

They weren’t chef’s, but the apples were good enough that no-one ever really noticed.


	17. The Wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus has some good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done with this idea: only a few more pieces to go.
> 
> I wonder about how Angus got his wand, and I feel like investigating for Leon is just a cover. If Taako realised there's kick ass magic wands in the fantasy goshapon he'd never leave the thing alone.
> 
> Also featuring: Lady Istus. The goshapon insists you put in your own coin because it ties the random item to the individual? That's all her. 
> 
> (Also the idea of her giving Angus the wand so Taako brushes up his teaching instincts for Ren in refuge? Gives me life.)

On Angus’ first day, he received a token from the Director. She said it was a payment for all his work investigating the Bureau, which was unfortunately useless now he was part of it. Angus thanked her profusely for it, and made his way down to Leon the Artificers room.

As Angus walked in, the older gnome man behind the desk groaned. He slowly got down from his place at his desk, and walked over to Angus. He grabbed Angus’ hand, and lead him over to the goshapon machine in the corner. He placed Angus’ hand on the crank.

“Now, you’ll need to move it to the right. You see your hands? The one that makes an “L” with your finger and thumb is your left. Move it the other-”

“Excuse me Sir.” Angus said politely. “I don’t think you’re allowed to help me with the fantasy goshapon.”

Leon seemed startled by this interruption. Angus, still new to the base, suddenly realised he must have seemed rude and back pedaled wildly.

“I- I mean, these work on fate, don’t they? And the principles of Istus and the mechanics of destiny are supposed-”

“You know, you are the first person to realise this is a shrine to Istus? Even the Director overlooked it.” Leon sounded slightly wowed. He took his hand off of Angus, and crossed his arms, impressed. “You must be Angus.”

“Yes, Sir.” Angus said.

“I apologise if I seemed a little rude. I’ve had some… difficult customers come through lately.”

“Not to be rude Sir, but how difficult can turning a handle be?”

Leon took a long breath out of nose that implied it could be very difficult. He went back to his desk, and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked a few seconds from slamming his head on the desk.

Angus politely pretended not to see, and slipped his coin into the slot. He turned the handle round.

“Word of advice, you didn’t hear it from me.” Leon whispered from the desk. “Turn it three times. Lady Istus seems to like that number.”

Angus did as he was bid, and turned the crank twice more. The machine make a clunk noise, and Angus could swear some smaller capsules moved out of the way to allow his one to roll out. It was about the size of pen, maybe a little larger. Angus cracked it open.

And he was confused.

It was a wand, smaller than most. Almost designed for someone Angus’ age. On the tip of the wand was a yellow star, which glittered brightly of it’s own volition. He turned to Leon, who was already flipping through his large catalogue to find it.

“An Apprentice Wand. Very good starter wand, perfect for cantrips and low level spells. Very little kick back.”

“I, uh, don’t want to be ungrateful Sir, but I’m not a wizard.” Angus said, looking over his wand.

“Don’t you want to be?” Leon said with a surprise. “You certainly have an eye for the arcane.”

“I suppose so Sir.”

“And Lady Istus has deigned you should have a wand. You’re not going to question a god, are you?”

“No Sir!” Angus snapped, automatically.

“Beside which, you can’t trade it away. It’ll make a nice paperweight I suppose. A good thing to stir your coffee with.”

Leon closed the book and looked over his glasses at Angus.

“But Lady Istus is a wise woman. I suggest you follow her directions, and look after her gifts.”

The wand had a home in Angus’ room, hanging from a lanyard he’d made at Camp Good Friend. Angus’ wand was the most precious thing in his life. It was the gift of a goddess after all.


	18. The Pressed Flower Bookmark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus talks about some hobbies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mavis and Mookie are here! Angus needs friends his own age and they share the same issue of absent fathers. Lots for them to talk about.
> 
> I only have one more chapter planned as a conclusion, unless there's any characters I haven't done yet that you really want to see!

Angus was lying in the dirt. His head was held in tight grip, a set of knuckles grinding against his head. He wriggled, but got no purchase. There was no escape. His face smashed into the ground, and he suddenly aware of a sharp metallic taste on his tongue.

“Mookie! Go easy. Kid’s a weenie, don’t break him.” Merle said somewhat gruffly, watching his son grapple with Angus. The young dwarf both with prominent missing teeth got up and beamed at his dad.

“Sorry. I forgot. Y’okay?” The boy pulled Angus to his feet, strong enough for Angus to stumble off balance. Angus rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth. He was bleeding a little. It didn’t hurt really, just a busted lip. Angus nodded that he was fine. Mookie gave him a thumbs up and barrelled off to his dad at full speed. He tackled Merle to the ground and took up wrestling once again.

Angus felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Mavis was holding out a neatly folded tissue.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be a little much sometimes.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind.” Angus said. “It’s fine, ma- ma-” Angus realised he was about to call her “ma’am”, but she was his age. Even with the beginnings of a dwarven beard, she was clearly not old enough to be called a “Sir” or “Ma’am”. 

“Mavis?” She offered with a dry smile.

“Yes. Thank you.” Angus took the tissue, and noticed that Mavis had nail polish that looked like the waves of the sea. It was very detailed, layers of different shades of blue flecked with white like sea foam. They glittered ever so slightly.

“You ok?” Mavis asked.

Angus blushed and dabbed at his lip carefully. He realised he wasn’t sure what to say to Mavis. He wasn’t used to talking to people his own age. She was nice, and she was smart. She was like Merle in lots of ways, same gruff humour, complex braids and glasses. She was nothing like Merle is lots of other ways, though. She had of less of his optimism. She was more intellectual. She seemed very sure of so many things, and that was a certainty that come hard won.

The moment was broken by Merle calling to them. “C’mon slow pokes, we’re getting some ice cream. You’re paying Ango.”

“Coming Sir!” Angus called, wiping the last of the blood from his lip. He walked beside Mavis, several paces behind Merle and Mookie.

“You call him Sir?” Mavis said, stifling a laugh.

“Sometimes.” Angus said.

“What’d he do to deserve that?”

Angus had to think about it. He’d always called him Sir. It wasn’t as though he decided it was the right title at some point. Everyone was deserving of respect. It was just… a fact.

“He’s just… Merle?” Angus said.

Mavis sighed. “That’s certainly true. There’s not many people like him. Does he still sing Kenny Chesney all the time?”

“ _All_ the time. And he falls asleep everywhere. Once time, Magnus found him snoring inside the frozen food section of Fantasy Costco. Just nestled among all the carrots and cabbages and things.”

Mavis laughed a quiet reserved laugh. “He hasn’t changed.”

“He has.” Angus said, taking in the rich gardens around him. There were trees lining the path they look, casting dappled light over the path. The world was warm, and quiet here. Merle and Mookie were far down the path, almost in another world. 

“You didn’t know him when he was with my mom.” Mavis said, casually.

“No.” Angus said.

“Well, he wasn’t such a sweet ‘pop pop’ back then. I mean, he’s always loved us. He’s just…”

“Bad at showing it?” Angus offered.

“Try terrible. He’s not exactly a peacemaker. Every conversation was an argument. I don’t think he meant to. My mom and him are just very different people. She had no patience, he never listened.”

“He’s gotten much better at that!” Angus insisted. “He just pretends to forget my name now.”

“It doesn’t bother me anymore. I know he can be forgetful and difficult. I mean, I’m like that too.” She looked wistfully at Mookie, trying to climb up on Merle’s shoulders as they walked down the path. “Mookie is so much like him. I just… I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Merle would never-”

“I know. I know.” Mavis interrupted. “But will you answer a question for me? Honestly?”

“Of course.” Angus said.

“Is his work dangerous?”

“Very.” 

“And he enjoys it?”

“He loves it.”

“That’s what I worry about. Mookie’s not the most careful,” Mavis indicated Angus’ split lip, “and if he takes after his dad, he’s in real trouble. I’m glad Merle’s back, but I won’t lose Mookie because he’s decided to get involved.” Mavis’ voice began to crack.

Angus held her hand. It startled her, and she looked at him with a slight shock. She did not take her hand away.

“Merle wouldn’t do that to you guys. And if he ever did, I’d stop him.”

“Would you, boy detective?” Mavis said with a smile.

“I’ll have you know I’m the world’s best detective.” Angus said.

“Really? Because my little brother just smashed your gourd Mr Holmes.”

Angus shrugged. “Words are a detective's best tool. That’s what my Caleb Cleveland novels say.”

“You read those books too?” Mavis asked, with some excitement. “What’s your favourite one?”

“The Case of the Cursed Crossbow! You?”

They spend the afternoon talking about their favourite books, swapping theories and notes. Mavis laughed a lot. Angus made some jokes. They were children, for once. Angus even wrestled with Mookie again later, but using new rules Mookie had invented called “Nerd Mode”. Angus still lost terribly, but he laughed until he got hiccups and had grass stains all over his clothes. Mookie bashfully gave Angus a flower, pressed completely flat, while Merle was busy talking to Mavis.

“I’m sorry for my beefy boy fightin’. Daddy says you’re a nerd who likes books, so I gotcha this as a present! Thought’d make a good book marker or somethin’.”

“Thank you! I’m always losing my bookmarks, this’ll be real useful.” Angus said, tucking the flat orange bloom in his breast pocket.

“What’s it like workin’ with my dad? Is he real strong and brave?”

Angus looked over at Merle, handing Mavis a stone of farspeech. He was showing her the features, and there was something in his eyes that seemed so proud when she made it clear she knew what to do. 

“He’s the best.” Angus said.

Angus preserved the pressed flower bookmark with magic. It reminded him to scribble notes in the margin of the book he was reading, just in case Mavis ever wanted to talk about it. He wanted to share something just as smart as her.


	19. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus makes a home (with some help).

Angus’ room was empty. When he first arrived at the Bureau, he had nothing but a suitcase of essentials. A few changes of clothes, detective materials, some toiletries. He could carry everything he owned in one hand, if he tried. When he met the Director, it became clear that he didn’t have a place. Not even at the Bureau.

Angus had been assigned an ordinary Seeker room originally. But the moment he stepped into the Director’s office those plans changed. He was escorted by Carrie, who had collected him from planetside. She kept a hand on his shoulder, hoping it would help with some of the nausea he was still suffering from. He’d drunk the Voidfish’s ichor by this point, but the sickness he felt was slowly ebbing away. Carrie wasn’t supposed to be in the room for Angus’ meeting with the Director, but she decided to stay anyway. Looking back Angus knew it was because he must have looked horribly nervous. 

The Director was an intimidating looking woman, cool and collected as she looked up from her desk. The portrait of her which hung behind the desk was as expressive as her. Angus felt the same cold fear of being called to the Headmaster’s office. He swallowed hard, and walked over to the desk.

“Nice to meet you ma’am. I’m Angus.” He reached the desk, and realised he couldn’t quite reach over it enough to shake her hand. His face flushed. The Director didn’t seem to notice, getting to her feet and walking around the desk to shake his hand.

“The pleasure’s mine. I’ve been following your work closely for a while now. Though I must be honest, I assumed you were a little older.”

“Assumptions are bad for detective’s ma’am! Besides, I believe age ain’t no thing.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you on that one.” The Director said with a smile. She absently ran a hand over her white hair. “Though I’m afraid it’s just not permissible for you to board with other seekers.”

“I don’t mind ma’am!” Angus said without thinking. He did mind, a little. He’d had several years of hotel rooms and his locked bedroom at home. Safe rooms, where he knew every hiding spot and escape route. Roommates would complicate it. Make it something other than safe.

“No, I won’t have it. A growing boy like you needs his own space. We’ll just have to make room for you.”

They did make room. It used to be a storage room, cleared out over the course of Angus’ first day. He didn’t get his bracer on the first day: the Director hadn’t realised that Angus was going to grow, something the irremovable bracer wouldn’t take to too well. She promised he would have one tomorrow, that wouldn’t mean they would have to “cut his arm off and reattach it, which is no big deal, just a real mess”. 

Angus’ room was completely empty, except for a mattress on the floor. Angus placed his small bag in the corner of the room, and changed into his pajamas. He lay down on the mattress. The ceiling and walls were horribly bare. His back was already hurting. He was a little cold without a blanket, and pulled a jumper on over his pajamas. He rolled onto his side and curled up.

He started to cry.

Once he started he couldn’t stop. Big heavy tears ran down his face. He took giant gasping breaths, but there never seemed to be enough air. His head got fuzzy, and thoughts got thick, and the tears just coming and coming. He was scared, and he was lonely, and he was _sure_ that this tiny oasis of safety in his life wouldn’t last. They never had before. He couldn’t run if he needed to. There was no back window, no skylight to crawl through. 

He couldn’t jump off the moon.

Angus’ room stayed empty for a while. He only used his room to try to sleep. He remained upbeat and positive to everyone he met. He played the role he was supposed to play.

Angus didn’t know how Mangus found out. Maybe it was the crick in his back, or the bags under his eyes. Maybe Magnus had snuck into his room to try and play a prank on him.

“Where’s your stuff Ango? Someone play a prank on you?”

“Oh no, Sir. I don’t really have much with me.”

“Me neither, but… not even a bed? Are you secretly a vampire? Sleeping on the ceiling?” Magnus jabbed a finger into Angus’ chest, which Angus quickly pushed off.

“I do have a mattress.”

“A mattress ain’t a bed, Ango. Bed’s are meant to be big, and wooden, and comfy.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. I don’t really need one.”

“I mean sure, but don’t you _want_ one?”

I don’t, because if I don’t have a bed, I can’t miss it when you kick me out. Angus was struck by the thought so hard he felt like he was seeing stars for a moment. It was dangerously close to a home, something he couldn’t hope to hold onto. He couldn’t go without this once he’d had it. So he couldn’t have it. He just couldn’t.

“Ango? You still with us?” Magnus asked again, noticing his long silence. Angus mumbled something and rushed off to the library. If he could make himself useful, they wouldn’t have a reason to throw him out. He just needed to keep to the books, and keep his head down, and no-one would find reason to get rid of him.

Angus had a trip down to Neverwinter a week later. It was mandatory, at the request of the Reclaimers. The Director had said it was an important trip to gather essential materials, inks and spell components. But Angus knew differently. They wanted him out of the way. He’d heard them say as much. He thought about just never calling down the sphere to collect him. He hald certain they wouldn’t send one.

He couldn’t think what he’d done wrong. As he walked the corridors of Neverwinter Library, picking up books requested by the Director, he reflecting on his actions. He forced himself to stop thinking like a little boy and start thinking like a detective. Finding the cause of the crime that was his inevitable eviction.

He was too enthusiastic at times. That irritated a lot of people. He was a know-it-all, and he struggled with ever appearing wrong. He was much younger than everyone else: generational differences were a thing he’d heard about. He didn’t always get jokes. He didn’t take pranks well, or maybe he took them too well? He worked too hard. He didn’t work hard enough. He got in the way. He was never around when people needed him.

The problem was not an absence of solutions. It was an abundance of them. 

There was no way they would want him back. He was walking back into a firing squad, he was sure. But he was Angus McDonald, and he was going to finish his job.

He wasted the day in Neverwinter. He sat in the town center and read until the light became too weak to see by. He took all afternoon to eat an ice cream. He smelled flowers, and browsed book shops, and procrastinated heading back.

But he did, once he ran out of excuses. He spent the whole flight back up to the moon base in agonised terror, thinking of how best to take the news. The most professional way. The way a grown up would do.

He was not surprised to see someone waiting for him in the hangar. He was surprised to see that the someone was in fact three people: Magnus, Merle and Taako. They seemed quite buzzed by the appearance of a sphere, and nudged each other when the realised it was Angus inside.

“Where have you been?” Taako snapped, arms crossed. Angus stepped out of the sphere, holding his books to his chest like a shield.

“N-Neverwinter, Sir. You told me to go there.”

“And what time do you call this?” Merle grumbled, taking up the same pose as Taako. Angus fumbled to look at his watch, but Merle interrupted him. “Too late, Agnes!”

“Was that an answer, or-” 

Magnus interrupted Angus before he could finish his sentence. “You go right to your room young man.”

“But I-” Angus started, feeling tears fill his eyes.

“Go!” The three boomed at once, pointing as one out of the hangar. They all seemed to be pointing in slightly different directions, but the message was clear. Angus began to walk through the corridors, head pounding intensely. He desperately wanted to say something, anything, to stop this from happening. He opened the door to his bedroom, his mind still swirling with mistakes and problems.

Then his mind went blank.

His room was not empty. He had a bed, a basic wooden frame that had been carved into something breathtaking. The same was true of the desk, and even the chair, some basic uninteresting furniture made into art. They were entangled with ivy and roses, showing a trio of animals running across their surface. Upon close inspection, Angus saw that they were an owl, mongoose and bear, given familiar scars and hats. 

They was a rug on the floor, one which Angus recognised from the Reclaimers room. It had been covering their vertigo inducing window, and was now covering the loose floorboard on his floor. The desk had his bottle from Johan on it, no longer filled with drink and instead holding a tulip. There were a bunch of office supplies on the desk: Angus pretended not to notice the stickers saying “PROPERTY OF BRAD” on them.

There was a painting hung on the wall: a landscape of the Sword Coast with beautiful birds soaring over it. It was a copy of a famous one, which Angus made mentioned in passing one day over dinner in the cafeteria. Merle had written the label, “ _Flight of the Flying V_ ” in his neatest cursive writing. It was a decent copy, most likely missing only a few key details. 

“So D’Jangus. What d’you think?” Taako asked, from right behind Angus. The boys had followed him to his room, and were standing expectantly behind him.

“You better be nice, ‘cause this took us all fuckin’ day.” Merle said.

Angus struggled to find the words. “Why?”

Magnus shrugged. “Everyone needs a home Angus. A place ain’t a home until you’ve put some crap in it. Tried to make it homey. I’ve gotta use that Rustic Hospitality for something, don’t I?”

Angus dropped his books on the floor with a crash. He rushed forward and took the Reclaimers in his arms as best he could, only just brushing Magnus as his arms wrapped around Taako and Merle.

“Thank you. Thank you sirs! I love it.”

Angus piled the room high with stuff soon. The certificate and the list of rules hung side by on the wall. The desk groaned under the weight of pens, bottles and bric a brac. A chest sat in corner, filled with blankets, shoes, torn pillowcases, handkerchiefs and loose cherry blossoms. A feather sat in Angus’ cap, taken from a Vermillion Flycatcher who had flown all the way to the moon. (Taken was the wrong word: Angus had given them some food and drink while they rested in anticipation of the Reclaimers. It had been a present.) There was cutlery, as yet unused, sitting proudly in a second hand mug. The bookshelf was covered in books with flower bookmarks and collections of songs. In the corner there sat a smelly box of tea, some plasters and an opened first aid kit. His equipment, a wand and a magnifying glass, lay by his bed, ready for action. There was a music box: a mix tape from a group calling themselves the Hogsbottom 3 who were busking out in a town square. (Well, the one who introduced himself as Scales called them that. The other two seemed less enthusiastic about the idea.) The apple tree in the corner had begun to leave scratches on the wall.

It was a room teeming with life: Angus’ life.

Angus finally had a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done for now! Thank you for all the suggestions: I included all the ones I could, with one or two that I didn't think I could get a good amount from mentioned here.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, it's been wonderful to write.
> 
> Who knows? Maybe someone else is going to have their room looked at next...


End file.
